


White

by RosemaryFries



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 13:23:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13008714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosemaryFries/pseuds/RosemaryFries
Summary: Hanzo is no stranger to having grey hair, but now that more than half of his head is white...it makes him worried he doesn't have much time.





	White

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short drabble I quickly wrote to share some thoughts and headcanons on Hanzo's new Winter Wonderland skin. It was going to be a twitter thread but I got way too into it n n;

It was at these times in the early mornings, when the world around him slept while he couldn't, that Hanzo took the time to reflect on himself.

From within the confines of the too small bathroom of his cramped apartment, Hanzo gazed coldly at his reflection in the mirror. Silently, he combed his fingers through the short white fuzz that framed his head now, tracing the hairs down into the bristles of his similarly white beard.

Obviously he needed to shave, and obviously he had been putting it off.

But now that he was staring himself down in the mirror, Hanzo felt absolutely ridiculous.

_A reverse skunk_ , he thought with dry amusement. He could almost hear Genji's laughter.

It had been a couple of years now since he had last heard from his younger brother. What would Genji think of him now?

Hanzo quickly squashed down that thought by forcing himself to throw open the drawer under the sink to rummage around noisily until he found his hair clippers.  

Genji can't say anything about his hair if he fixes it before Genji can even see it, right?

Right...?

He thumbed at the device's power button and stared hard at his reflection once again. Tired eyes only looked back at him accusingly and the guilt swelled within him like a wave.

But warm slender fingers sliding up his arm halted the wave and a tender kiss was pressed to the back of Hanzo's neck.

"It's too early for preenin', hon."

Hanzo hummed half-heartedly and leaned back into the body behind him. Strong hairy arms snaked down to wrap around his waist and Hanzo allowed the warmth to anchor him.

"I let it grow out too much," was all he could say as he dropped the clippers back into the drawer.

Jesse watched Hanzo through the mirror, his expression unreadable, but when he realized Hanzo was staring back, the cowboy allowed his face to melt into a fond smile. He rubbed his cheek against the white fluff at Hanzo's temple. "Well I think it makes you look mighty distinguished."

Hanzo grimaced and pulled away slightly. "I look like my father."

A heavy silence filled the small bathroom and Hanzo immediately regretted opening his mouth. He watches apprehensively as Jesse's brows are pulled down in concern.

"Hanzo—

"I look old," Hanzo quickly interjected. He refused to take Jesse's pity.

Jesse blinked at him and chuckled—his attempt at lightening up the mood. He reached out for Hanzo once again and left the palm of his hand hovering near Hanzo's cheek in a silent question of consent.  

Hanzo sighed and conceded to the touch. "I am almost forty and yet my hair is as white as a man who has seen seventy years."

"That's a normal thing, Han. I've known some folks who go grey prematurely," Jesse said reassuringly. "Sure we ain't spring chickens, but we've still got plenty of time."

Hanzo nuzzled his face into Jesse's warm palm and closed his eyes. "I am afraid my time will be shorter than yours."

He expected Jesse to pull away, but the cowboy didn't. Instead he softly brushed a thumb across Hanzo's cheekbone and waited silently for Hanzo to continue.

Hanzo was grateful that someone like Jesse McCree had learned to be patient with him.

"This is the price that those in my family must face—that I must face, for wielding the power of the dragons," Hanzo muttered. "It is the reason my mother had died so young and the same for my father. Every time we use the dragons...it takes a toll on us physically. With the amount of times I have used the dragons...my hair will be completely white by next year. It will be a miracle if I even live to see fifty..."

His words hung in the air as silence consumed the two once again, and for once the cowboy was rendered speechless.

He looked up at Jesse, expecting to see a face full of worry, but instead the man's expression was focused intensely. Brown eyes darting in thought—chasing something Hanzo was unable to see.

"Jesse?"

Jesse blinked and looked away apologetically. "Just counting...sorry."

Recognition bloomed within Hanzo and his heart twisted painfully. "Counting how many times you have seen me use my dragons..."

"...yeah."

Jesse's tone was sheepish and he ducked his head. Hanzo responded by giving a sharp rap across the other man's brow with a knuckle.

Jesse yelped in surprise and rubbed at the spot angrily. "The hell was that for?!"

"You complete fool," Hanzo said quietly, and then a little harsher. "I have lived with this my entire life. Don't think you can calculate my life down to mere numbers—

"I know," Jesse cut in quickly. "I said I was sorry."

The cowboy fidgeted in place and rubbed at his beard anxiously. No doubt he was getting the shakes and would need to smoke soon.

"I've lost a lot of good people in my life," Jesse suddenly said. "I've learned enough by now to know you can't ever stop it but..."

Jesse ran his fingers through the white of Hanzo's hair gently, and the touch sent a pleasant tingle down Hanzo's spine—calming the emotion that churned so violently inside him.

"I just want to make every second count."

The words nearly broke Hanzo. The tears that had been stinging his eyes for the past few minutes threatened to spill over and in a fit of panic, Hanzo shoved his face into Jesse's bare chest to allow them to fall unseen.

How could he truly mean so much to the cowboy?

Surely they were used to living the kind of life where every day could possibly be their last?

_I just want to make every second count._

The words kept twisting within Hanzo's chest and he huffed indignantly into Jesse's chest as fresh tears continued to trickle from the corners of his eyes.

Warm lips pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "This don't change a thing between us."

"Good," was all Hanzo could say in return.

The answer must have been good enough for Jesse because Hanzo felt him rumble with a low laugh.

And once more, silence befell them in the small bathroom, but it was a more comfortable silence.

"Come back to bed?" He heard Jesse ask, wrapping his arms around Hanzo's waist once again.

"Only if you carry me," Hanzo huffed stubbornly.

Jesse looked down at him, eyebrow raised. "Seriously? Are we four years old now?"

"No," Hanzo said, a coy smile pulled at his lips. "I'm an old man, you must carry me."

"Darlin' you're gonna ruin my back," Jesse laughed, and with a small grunt of effort he picked up Hanzo all the same and carried him back to their shared bed.

Hanzo hummed pleased and pressed a chaste kiss to Jesse's lips. "A shame you are not a spring chicken then."

"That's fine by me," Jesse grinned. "You're pretty face keeps me young."

"You are such a fool."

"Love you too, hon."

           

           

           

 


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